


Blinded by the Light

by Miso



Series: A War He Can't Forget [7]
Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Switching, its 4 am i cant be assed rn im tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: Trying to get dry is a lot harder than people make it out to be.





	Blinded by the Light

**Author's Note:**

> ok so its 4 in the morning and i have to get up early but i HAD to finish this i was on a roll :C based, again, on an idea from the fantastically lovely blossomtime! needless to say floyd is gonna be on-and-off the wagon a lot but he's learning about himself and his limits and how to help himself. :3 part of the vietnam series because it IS in the same continuity even though this doesn't deal much with floyd's actual traumas.

Sometimes laying on the living room floor listening to records was all Floyd could stand to do. He'd spend hours staring at the ceiling, not thinking, music just background noise to distract him. "Give up drinking," everyone had told him, "You'll feel so much better." Right now his body was screaming at him for a drop of booze and it was almost painfully tempting. He'd get up only long enough to flip over the album when it reached the end of a side or put on a new one when another finished. He saved his longer, more artsy albums for these kinds of days; The Clash's _Sandinista!_ was an eternal favorite since it took more than two hours to get through the entire thing. A DJ friend of his from Denver had sent him a copy of _2112_ ages ago; he normally didn't like Rush much but not having to move for 20 minutes was appealing. Floyd would take his eardrums bleeding from Geddy Lee's inhuman screeching over actually having to do anything more than he had to.

Right now he was nearing the end of side 2 of _The Grand Illusion_ and watching the ceiling fan spin. He'd always liked Styx. Any kind of music he figured his parents would throw a conniption over him listening to appealed to him, but especially the rock music. He could only imagine how they'd feel about the cover of _2112_ with its giant bright-red pentagram. Floyd let out a soft chuckle picturing his father working himself into a frenzy over the "Satanic" symbol. He didn't notice the music fading out until the needle bumped against the label and produced an alarming scratching noise, and he hopped up to change out the album before the assault on his ears could continue.

At that moment, Earl padded into the room, barefoot and sipping a cup of tea. "What're you doing?" he asked softly, watching Floyd struggle to put the record back into its sleeve and curse quietly.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Floyd answered sarcastically, finally securing the vinyl in its sleeve and placing it back among his albums. He and Earl had such violently different tastes in music (Earl unironically enjoyed disco music, while Floyd owned one of those 'disco sucks' t-shirts, mostly because it annoyed Earl) that their collections of albums were kept almost entirely separate. He briefly flipped through his collection before settling on _The Roaring Silence_ by Manfred Mann's Earth Band. It was the last thing he'd bought last time he got new records that he hadn't listened to yet. He'd have to go shopping soon. He was running out of material.

"... You want some company?" Earl came a little closer, setting his mug on the coffee table. Floyd shrugged noncommittally and placed the needle on the record. He lay back down on the floor without another word. "Why the floor...?"

"Because the couch isn't strong enough to support how bad I feel right now." It sounded really cheesy, but it was mostly true. Earl didn't ask any more questions. He lay down beside Floyd and draped an arm over his chest. "... So you're staying?"

"I hate seeing you this upset." Earl nuzzled Floyd's neck gently as the opening notes of "Blinded by the Light" tripped through the room. "... Are you okay?"

"Not right now." Floyd watched the fan for a moment longer, relishing the gentle warmth of Earl's body beside him. "No one told me it would be this hard."

"What? Not drinking?"

"Mmm." Floyd sighed and closed his eyes. "When you're getting rid of your favorite way to deal with shit everything feels a lot worse," he mumbled. Earl made a quiet noise and kissed his temple gently.

"... You're not gonna need me when you get better, are you?" he asked quietly. Floyd let out a small, hollow laugh and turned to Earl as the dreamy guitar solo wafted over them. "I mean... you're gonna get better, and you won't need someone to take care of you," Earl continued.

"Doll, you have nothing to worry about." Floyd kissed Earl's forehead and caressed his cheek gently. "You're not going anywhere. You're about the only healthy outlet I've got." He smiled just a bit sadly and pulled Earl close. Earl sighed quietly, half-contented and half-unsettled. At least he wouldn't be dropped like a bad habit as soon as Floyd had recovered. Something about that was unspeakably nice to hear.

Their eyes met, deep cocoa on wise hazel. Floyd smiled just a bit, maybe a little insincerely, but... he was going through some stuff, Earl figured. "You're not doing that because it's me, are you?"

"Nah. I'm just... not okay. You help." Floyd closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Earl's, feeling himself relax and melt against him. Their kiss was slow and lazy and they tangled their legs together, enjoying the contact. Floyd's hand found its way to Earl's hip and gripped gently, Earl's tangled in Floyd's hair. Despite how terrible he felt, Floyd felt a stirring in his loins, gentle touches and soft kisses and the little noises Earl made working together. He gently took Earl's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, a move that made Earl squirm just a bit and grip his hair.

"... You're a tease," Earl whispered, a pinkish blush starting to rise on his cheeks. "You know that?"

"Yeah, but you like it." Floyd slid a hand up Earl's shirt, teasing his nipple just a bit and carding his fingers through the sea of black curls, letting out a low purr as Earl arched however slightly into his touch.

He steeled himself a moment before he let himself say something he'd been thinking about for weeks. "Fuck me," he whispered, regretting it when Earl tensed.

"... What?"

"You heard me."

"You've... never asked to bottom before."

"I've never wanted to." A half-truth. Floyd saw how much Earl enjoyed himself during sex. How he'd squirm and cry out and buck his hips and plead for more. He'd wondered if it was just an Earl thing, if Floyd himself was just that good (which he doubted), but after eavesdropping on some conversations between the more fey of the young men who populated the Tap Room on their "Gay Night" he'd figured maybe he was missing out.

Giving up control over every situation was something he had to learn how to do, too. He loved being in control. He'd know what was going to happen, when it was going to happen, and how it was going to happen. The few times he hadn't been in the driver's seat of a situation, bad things happened, people got hurt. Or worse. Floyd trembled and closed his eyes tight, clinging to Earl to fend off flashbacks he knew were coming.

"Shhh," Earl whispered, kissing his forehead. "It's alright." They were quiet for a moment. "... You really want me to top?"

"Please," Floyd answered once he'd regained his composure. He had to give up control. Just this once. Maybe. "But... maybe not on the floor?" If he was really going to do this, he'd rather have something more comfortable than a concrete floor and carpet beneath him.

"Oh, um, yeah, I get it," Earl said with a nervous chuckle. He picked himself up off the floor once they'd disentangled themselves from each other, helping Floyd to his feet. Pausing long enough to turn off the record player, Earl asked one last time before shutting the door to their bedroom: "You're sure?"

"Yes." Floyd was already unbuckling his belt, shirt somewhere across the room. "Just... don't make me reconsider. Please." Earl shrugged and wrapped his arms around Floyd's waist, kissing his shoulder. "Earl..."

"I just... want to know what sparked this. Every time I asked before you told me no."

"..." Floyd was quiet for a moment. "I never wanted to. I just... I don't know."

"... You know you called me... y'know. The F word the other night."

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"You're making up for that?"

"Sort of. I... I don't like myself as much as I let on, doll."

"No shit." Earl pressed another kiss to Floyd's shoulder. He popped the button on Floyd's jeans open gently. "Which is why I don't wanna push you into this if you really don't want it."

"No, no, I want to." Floyd covered Earl's hands with his own. "I just... I don't want to hate myself anymore." He trembled a little as Earl's lips pressed against his neck this time. "I guess I kind of... convinced myself it was 'less gay' if I wasn't the one taking it, you know?"

Earl nodded a little. "... So you've never...?"

"No. Never."

"Not even with...?" Earl trailed off, but Floyd knew what he was going to say.

"No. Jack and I never went further than a blow job." Floyd felt another shudder run through him as Earl nibbled just hard enough to leave a mark on his neck. "What about you...?"

"Once or twice," Earl whispered. "Been a while..." No kidding. They'd been together for... what, five years at this point? "So, um, sorry if I'm not that good. Should've hired a gigolo if you wanted something quality," he joked with a soft chuckle. Floyd couldn't help but smile.

"You're dumb," he mumbled, worming out of Earl's grip and pulling the absolutely horrendously-patterned sweater he'd been wearing off of him. Much better. "But you're cute."

"And you're a jerk." Earl nudged Floyd's pants and boxers down, purring quietly. "Almost a shame to know you're not gonna be using that thing," he whispered, giving Floyd's half-erect dick a slow stroke and smiling almost smugly at the soft moan that escaped his lover. Slipping his own pants off, Earl backed Floyd onto the bed and kissed him, tongues exploring each others' mouths almost tentatively, like their first time all over again.

Earl backed off long enough to grab the lube from the nightstand. Floyd bit his lip with trepidation as the cap popped open and Earl slicked two fingers. "... Is it gonna hurt?"

"Maybe a little at first," Earl said quietly. "I'm gonna try and make sure it doesn't. Or at least it doesn't hurt much." Floyd shuddered again as Earl gave his cock another slow stroke. He was hard now, hard but still a little bit nervous. A finger prodded at him and he jumped in response.

"Jesus, that's cold," he mumbled, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "... You're sure it won't hurt?"

"If you need me to stop just say so," Earl responded. "Here," he placed Floyd's hand on his cock, "Jerk yourself off, it helps." Floyd chewed his lip again, stroking himself slowly, tensing despite himself as Earl's finger slipped into him.

It was... weird. Not painful, but kind of weird. Like pressure. "... That okay?" Earl asked softly, remaining still. Floyd nodded a little. It didn't go too badly with jerking off. "Am I okay to move?" Another nod. "Alright."

Floyd hissed quietly with pleasure as Earl's finger moved inside him. His eyes fluttered shut as he thumbed the head of his cock gently, his breathing increasing in tempo ever-so-slightly. "Fuck," he breathed, "I've been missing out..."

"That's just one, babe," Earl whispered, pausing long enough to nudge his second finger against Floyd's opening. "Yes?"

"Please..." The hiss was one of pain this time, as that second finger slid in. It burned, why the hell did it burn?

"Are you alright?" Earl asked, his voice tinged with worry. "I don't want to hurt you, sweetie..."

God, he was so gentle. Floyd opened his eyes and looked up at him, feeling a surge of emotions as they made eye contact. Earl was worried- deeply aroused, yes, but worried- and watching him closely for any signs of pain. "M'fine," Floyd whispered hoarsely, breath caught in his throat. "Don't stop."

"Okay... just let me know..." Earl's fingers moved, and Floyd gasped softly. Once he was used to it it was kind of nice. "You like that?"

"Yeah... feels nice." Floyd let his head tip back against the pillows. Earl smiled a little and crooked his fingers slightly, earning him a high pitched yelp that he didn't realize Floyd could produce. Floyd clapped his free hand over his mouth, startled.

"Found your prostate." Earl watched as Floyd lowered his hand, panting softly.

"... W-was that what that was?" It felt like an electric shock, but... good. "Do it again..." Earl repeated the action and Floyd cried out, his legs trembling.

"Yeah, that's why I never understood why people said we're not supposed to do this." Earl slid his fingers out- smirking at the soft whimper Floyd let out- and kissed Floyd's knee gently. "If we're not supposed to do this kind of thing, why is that there?"

"... Why'd you stop...?"

"You think it feels good with fingers, wait until a dick hits it." Earl fished in the nightstand for a condom, only for Floyd to grip his wrist and stop him before he could open it. "... Floyd?"

"Do we... really need that?" He was still panting a little, his cheeks red. He looked so gorgeous. "I mean... we don't... normally use them..."

"I mean, it's up to you." Earl put the condom aside and gripped the lube. "You're sure?"

"Just do it, Earl!"

Earl nodded and slicked his cock. "... This would be easier if you got on all fours," he began, "but I want to watch you."

"And I'd feel silly." Floyd smiled a little, then gasped as Earl's dick nudged against him. It felt huge- he was just average, but it felt like a fucking club, literally- and he tensed again. "S-sorry..."

"You're alright." Earl kissed Floyd's cheek gently. "Relax. Deep breath." Floyd nodded a little, inhaling deeply. As he exhaled, Earl pressed forward. It took every bit of his composure to fight his body's natural reaction to clamp down, and even then he wasn't entirely sure it was going to fit. Until the tip popped in, and the both of them gasped at the same time. Stilling, Earl smiled down at Floyd reassuringly. "Still okay...?"

Floyd nodded dumbly. Words weren't going to work right now. He gripped Earl's shoulders, trembling. "More," he whispered once he managed to find his voice. "Please..." Earl kissed him softly as he pressed in deeper, then pulled out slowly. It was torture, but he couldn't stand the idea of Earl stopping. One of his hands went back down to his cock and stroked, in time with the gentle movements.

Earl's kisses were gentle and loving. "Still doing okay?"

"S-stop asking..." Floyd whimpered and dug his nails into Earl's shoulder. "J-just fuck me..." Earl, eyebrows raised, opened his mouth to speak, but shut it just as quickly and slowly began to increase his pace. Floyd let out a long, low groan, sweat beading on his forehead, his hand leaving Earl's shoulder to grip the blankets. His body was getting used to it, and it felt pretty nice. "Earl, fuck... y-you're better at this than I thought..."

"Nnh, better than I thought too," Earl mumbled, panting softly as he assumed a slightly-faster-than-steady rhythm. "You're so fucking tight..." he groaned softly as he pressed in deeper. "Fuck, baby..."

Floyd howled as Earl's cock brushed that spot inside him again, sending lightning through his body. Like the trigger on a pistol, it was more than enough; his cock twitched and somewhere through the static he felt wet heat landing on his stomach. As he came down, he could hear Earl breathing heavily, his thrusts having stilled.

"Didn't think you'd come that quick," Earl whispered, giving Floyd a loving glance over the top rims of his glasses. "You okay if I keep going...?"

Floyd nodded desperately and locked his legs around Earl's waist. The absolute last thing he wanted was for him to stop. He'd already come once, and he was still hard. Could men do that? Come more than once? He'd never experienced it personally, but he had a feeling he was going to find out. Earl's thrusts resumed their previous speed, this time locked in deep, and he let out another low, almost primal moan. Goddamn. Floyd couldn't help but wonder if Earl thought he sounded that hot when he topped.

He learned that yes, men could do that. Two, three, four times he felt it, though only the first one had resulted in ejaculation. He hadn't realized dry orgasms were a thing for guys, either. Hell, part of him couldn't believe Earl had made him come four times. After number four, though, Earl leaned over him and mumbled, "I'm gonna come, babe..."

"I... I wanna feel it..." Floyd panted softly, his spent cock far too sensitive to be touched. He gripped Earl's shoulders again. "Please...!"

"Y-you're sure?"

"Quit asking that!"

Earl didn't have time to respond, letting out a loud cry of Floyd's name before he paused his thrusts. He could feel himself throbbing as he came, trembling and panting, watching Floyd as well as he could.

It was definitely an interesting sensation- wet and hot and not unpleasant but weird. Floyd let out a soft sigh when Earl pulled out of him. Now that he knew what he was missing, it just felt... wrong. Earl settled beside him and kissed his neck gently. "You did good," he whispered. "Did you like it?"

A nod. Earl wrapped an arm around him, the way he had earlier, and Floyd felt a tug at his heartstrings. No one had ever been this gentle and kind to him before. He barely noticed as tears fell down his cheeks until Earl wiped them away and whispered, "Are you alright...? Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?"

"... No, doll, m'fine," Floyd whispered, with a soft sob. "I just... y-you were so gentle..."

"Well, yeah, I didn't want to hurt you..."

"... No one's been this good to me before..."

"Oh, babe..." Earl kissed the top of Floyd's head as he pulled him close, letting him bury his face in his neck. "I'll be good to you. Forever. I love you." Floyd didn't answer, crying quietly. Earl didn't need an answer. "Shhhh," he whispered, as softly and reassuringly as he could. "I've got you."

Floyd let himself cry. He didn't try to hold back, or stifle himself. He needed this. He'd earned this. He hated being the crying-after-sex type, but goddammit, he'd earned a good cry, even if it was just because his boyfriend was being nice to him. It was foreign- kindness like that- and as much as it comforted him, it scared him a bit too.

Maybe he wasn't as big of a failure as he thought. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than his scars. Even if they'd never go away entirely... maybe they'd fade.

"Babe?" Earl's voice cut into his thoughts. "You alright? You're not crying anymore."

"M'fine, doll." Floyd stayed nuzzled into Earl's neck. "Just... just hold me."


End file.
